"Come, now, Mrs. Drelmer, you're too good a friend of Mauburn's--about his marrying, I mean. You fixed him to tackle me low the very first half of one game we know about, right when I was making a fine run down the field, too. I'm going to have better interference this time." "Silly! Your chances are quite as good as his there this moment." "You may think so; I know better." "And of course, in any other affair, I'd never think of--" "P'r'aps so; but I'd rather not chance it just yet." "But who is she? What a magnificent mop of hair. It's like that rich piece of ore Mr. Bines showed us, with copper and gold in it." "Well, I don't mind telling you she's the widow of a Southern gentleman, Colonel Brench Wybert." "Ah, indeed! I did notice that two-inch band of black at the bottom of her accordeon-plaited petticoat. I'll wager that's a _Rue de la Paix_ idea of mourning for one's dead husband. And she confides her grief to the world with such charming discretion. Half the New York women can't hold their skirts up as daintily as she does it. I dare say, now, her tears could be dried?--by the right comforter?" Milbrey looked important. "And I don't mind telling you the late Colonel Brench Wybert left her a fortune made in Montana copper. Can't say how much, but two weeks ago she asked the governor's advice about where to put a spare million and a half in cash. Not so bad, eh?" "Oh, this new plutocracy! Where _do_ they get it?" "How old, now, should you say she was?" Mrs. Drelmer glanced up again at the colour-scheme of heliotrope seated in a victoria upholstered in tan brocade. "Thirty-five, I should say--about." "Just twenty-eight." "Just about what I should say--she'd say." "Come now, you women can't help it, can you? But you can't deny she's stunning?" "Indeed I can't! She's a beauty--and, good luck to you. Is that the _Viluca_ coming in? No; it has two stacks; and it's not your people because the _Lotus_ is black. I shall go back to the hotel. Bertie Trafford brought me over on the trolley. I must find him first and do an errand in Thames Street." At the head of the stairs they parted, Milbrey joining the lady who had waited for him. Hers was a person to gladden the eye. Her figure, tall and full, was of a graceful and abundant perfection of contours; her face, precisely carved and showing the faintly generous rounding of maturity, was warm in colouring, with dark eyes, well shaded and languorous; her full lips betrayed their beauty in a ready and fascinating laugh; her voice was a rich, warm contralto; and her speech bore just a hint of the soft r-less drawl of the South.